


I Stole My Neighbor's Annuals to Wear on Our Second Date

by Yolo_SwaGinz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Zarkon (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dating, Dinner dates, Escort Service, Festivals, Galra Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, No one knows how to date, Omega Keith (Voltron), Protective Parents, Zarkon (Voltron) is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-21 23:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolo_SwaGinz/pseuds/Yolo_SwaGinz
Summary: The married beta whose partner is away on duty is watering her plants outside in the small allotted plots. They’re spring annuals, the flowers a bright red against the dark exterior of the apartments.“How was the gala last night, Keith?” She asks. She always strikes conversations just to weblum out information from his worklife. She might be the second most nosy into his personal affairs, right behind Krolia herself. At least she doesn't follow him everywhere she can.“Quite boring as per usual.” Keith replies dryly before escaping into his apartment. She has no business in the imperial court for a reason.
Relationships: Alfor & Blaytz & Gyrgan & Trigel & Zarkon (Voltron), Alfor/Allura's Mother (Voltron), Keith's Father/Krolia (Voltron), Keith/Zarkon (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	1. Dripping in Red Fog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maderi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/gifts).



> Made this for Maderi cause we like to talk Zarkeith; so why not do something sweet for all the plot help I'm getting for Be Half of Me \\(^W^)/ <3

Last night the escort company contacted him with a potential client as follows:

_You have been chosen by a client for:_

**_37,000_ ** _credits_

**_17,000_ ** _credits will be deducted for managerial compensation._

**_17:45_ ** _today until morning_

_Clothing provided by client._

_An escort shuttle will be provided at_ **_17:00_ **

**_Terms of Night:_ **

_Sexual Conduct: Y_

_Alcohol: Y_

…

He scrolls through the long list of activities to expect: protected sex, drinking, dancing, staying the night, PDA, professional behavior expected. The list goes on and on, and he is not looking forward to tonight’s intricacies.

Keith checks his secure business line for the fifth time that day. It’s only 10:30 in the morning and he already doesn't have his shit together. 

The so called “Peace Gala” was a party being held here on Diabazaal to celebrate the new treaty with Altea. The peace talks were already long over, so it's only formality at this point. 

Being half Galran and Altean himself he has felt the effects of both Galran and Altean breeds of xenophobia. He chose to live with his mother Krolia on their homeplanet, even if he was born on Altea. His father died in a fire rescue when he was younger while his mother was away on a military ship. He was passed around orphanage to orphanage on both Altea and later Diabazaal. He felt the worst of both worlds. 

Keith tries to stomach some bread and soup he made the night before. Krolia said the soup was too bland, the bread too spicy. She still ate it with a smile. 

The dress is bright red to pair with his dark hair. It has the slightest sparkly sheen that Keith notices highlights his natural curves. His floor length mirror shows Keith that the dress really shows off his ass, too. Its short and sexy, the straps spaghetti and the neckline a low sharp cut. He sits down on his stool by the mirror to apply the makeup: mascara and a red lip that matches the dress. He thinks his skin is fine as it is, and no complexion product matches him anyways. Diabazzal isn’t exactly known for beauty products like Altea is. Often they are often shunned as a waste of money. 

* * *

“You look stunning, darling.” His mother says. Keith startles, not hearing or seeing her sneak up on him while deep in thought. She takes his brush to his waist length mullet, humming a tune. 

“Send a comm to me if anything happens. I won’t allow any of these despicable officials to take any advantage of you.” She states.

“I know. You have my comms location anyways.” Keith says, tone grateful. 

Krolia braids his hair into three braids and braids those together again. It’s to show he’s still single; unmarried. It shows everyone that he’s an escort.

He sprays a pheromone perfume on his neck and wrists to exemplify his natural omega scent. His client tonight, Ranveig, is a proud alpha and would be proud to have the privilege of an omega’s company. 

Krolia clips on a black collar with a large ruby dangling down. She clips in matching earrings to Keith’s ears. 

He’ll put his heels on before he leaves, not wanting to put them on quite yet.

Keith doesn't mind his line of work. Most clients can’t even afford to fuck him, but most try to get his number anyways. They're always asking about him, for him. He learned after his first overly interested client that they only want him for his omega status, unique heritage and sharp features. They don't ever want _him_. It's never really about what he wants. 

* * *

The Peace Gala came faster than Keith would like. He touches up his hair before he exits the escort shuttle. It’s as much a formality as it is a safety measure for escorts. 

He’s alone in the small boujee transport. It makes sense as his client tonight is his mother’s direct superior, Commander Ranveig. He’s known for being calculative, organized and often a respectable tactician. He likes color coded spreadsheets. Once a lieutenant got the color coding wrong and nearly got demoted a rank. It wasn't approved for obvious reasons, but he was still moved to a less prestigious vessel in the end. Krolia hates her position, finds it endlessly annoying. Thankfully Ranveig thinks of her as his most dedicated lieutenant, and so allowed her attendance to the gala when requested. She just wanted to be there for Keith.

A servant opened the door for Keith to slip out, long legs clad in black red bottomed heels. They’re not the longest heels he’s ever worn, but he is required to dance tonight for formality's sake.

“Thank you.” Keith whispers to the servant. It’s not protocol, but the servants appreciate the small kindness. 

Ranveig is waiting for him outside the shuttle. His eyes roam up and down Keith’s frame. He looks back unfazed into his client’s eyes, unintimidated. Ranveig takes an unsubtle sniff to the air around Keith. His hands roam up and down Keith’s sides, tracing his markings all over his body. Keith takes his place attached to his client’s armored arm, making sure to snuggle in in a show of false affection. 

“Very good. I paid almost too much money for your company. I expect the highest performance both tonight and into the morning.” Ranveig smirks. Keith wonders how his mother deals with him everyday. 

They walk through the Imperial Palace at borderline brisk pace. Their size difference is almost ridiculous, Keith leaning more towards his Altean heritage in physical stature. His ears are a strange blend of long and pointed lobe with hair accents along their tips. He’s much too hairy to be attractive to alteans, much too slim and weak looking to be conventionally attractive to Galra. At least his clients have a niche taste.

Servants and guards stand at the entrance to the event room, greeting people as they pass through. All the military personnel are clad in their decorative armor, the alteans in fancy clothes. Some are similar to Keith’s, some more traditional looking. He knows his place here is both a calculated choice by Ranveig and a quick fuck; a show of support for the political union and a night of pleasure. 

Ranveig nods to the crowd as the palace staff call out their attendance. Keith does a small wave at the staring guests. The Alteans look on curiously, not knowing too much about escorts in the court. Especially not Keith. 

As they mingle together in the crowd Keith stays respectfully silent as Ranveig converses with both other Commanders and Alteans alike. Everyone is being conversational with each other. It's going well as far as keith is concerned. It’s none of his business what the upper class are doing. 

Another group of Alteans approach the small group of Commanders: Ranveig, Janka, Gnov and Ladnok. They are making boasts about how much they spent on their respective escorts. Keith has no doubts their camaraderie could easily be violently kicked under the rug for an all out fight. 

The other escorts are full galra, betas by the smell of them. These Commanders seem to have a penchant for male escorts. Keith whispers to them discreetly. The small group falls silent as Alteans none too discreetly join the group. 

“My friends and I are curious, are you couples or…?” The tallest of the bunch asks Keith. He has red hair in an updo, blue green eyes and blue marks. Keith is only a few inches shorter than him, but the Altean is wispy and frail looking. Keith tilts his head. He’s not technically supposed to hold conversations with the actual guests.

“Do you not have consorts on Altea?” Ranveig answers for him. It's predictable he would deflect a question right back at the man. 

“I- We don’t, not really. We often only bring our actual partners with us.” The Altean answers. They continue conversation for a few minutes before the Alteans wander away to the expansive and diverse buffet. 

Nothing else really happens the rest of the night before the respective rulers show face at their own party. It was pretty standard work for Keith tonight: doll himself up, show face, get fucked, get paid. This was new, and quite exciting. Also nerve racking. He’s been fondled all night alongside the other escorts, being passed around and groped. Mostly Keith as he is a hot commodity as an Omega. They like to scent him and grab his ass. His hair and clothing is disheveled as a result. He just hopes he is at least still looking presentable.

The Emperor strikes an impressive figure, dwarfing the Altean king in both height and size. He’s the epitome of Galran attractiveness: strong jawed, broad shouldered, exuding confidence from every visible pore and then some. He wears his armour not as protection, but as a symbol of pride; though he is not a boastful or overindulgent. He’s a pinnacle of what everyone would want or need as a supreme ruler of an empire, or as a partner.

Keith, as impressed or intimidated as he is, is eternally glad he is not allowed to speak or interact with the guests, including the Emperor. Especially him. Krolia has warned him of his harsh standards for himself and others. He is selfless and collected, everything is a strategic move for the betterment of his citizens. 

Everyone salutes their leaders. They're surrounded by their own personal entourage of guards and family in Alfor’s case. Princess Allura and Queen Mellenor accompany him down the steps. They are all done up and must be as exceptional looking to the Alteans as Zarkon is to the Galra. 

A long and annoying speech from all three rulers nearly makes Keith yawn. He decides instead to lean into Ranveig’s side in a comfortable show of affection. It’s of course not real, but Keith’s own calculated guise as he is exhausted in his heels. It makes Ranveig puff up in confidence like a ridiculous bird. It makes Keith snicker for real the first time that night. His clients can be so funny sometimes.

* * *

The speeches come to an end and the royal guards disperse from their places to mingle into the crowd. Sendak finds his way to the group of commanders and their escorts. He makes a show of checking Keith out and massaging his shoulders, asking for his business comms line. Keith hands him his comms almost reluctantly and Sendak connects their comms together, inserting his client information into Keith’s device. His employer will be happy about all of his new clients.

After getting Keith’s business line Sendak turns back to the group, fully immersed into their conversation about “tasteful” politics. The escorts talk amongst themselves about menial things like how the food is very rich or how the Altean wine tastes a bit too sweet. 

Keith is reapplying his red lipstick when a hand taps his shoulder. He clips his compact mirror closed before turning around to an armored chest. He looks up to the face of Emperor Zarkon; the man’s mouth the slightest crack ajar in surprise. He feels his face heat up at the display of wonderment before it promptly disappears. His scent is crisp and refined like a natural perfume, though it wouldn't be surprising if it was his natural alpha musk. It clouds Keith’s mind so thoroughly he didn't notice anything else. 

“Commander Ranveig.” He says. Keith’s head turns to his client who, in contrast, has paled considerably. They all do a quick salute to greet their emperor.

“I require your presence at quadrant 34-Y-2E for immediate assistance in the overseeing of the records for the new colony. Sendak’s fleet will join yours for the protection of the colonists from the pirates found in the area. In consequence, you might want to dismiss yourself from your escort for the night.” Zarkon concludes. Sendak and Ranveig salute again and leave the gala in quick accordance with their orders. 

After they leave the group simply disperses with their own escorts. Keith puts away his makeup compact and takes out his personal comms instead, contacting Krolia so they can leave together. 

“May I inquire of your business contact?” The Emperor inquires. Keith amidst the commotion nearly forgot about him. 

“Of course, my Emperor.” Keith chokes out. He hands him his comm unit from his hand. He shifts uncomfortably as he waits for it to ding in confirmation. When it finally does he sighs quietly. 

“Have a good night.” Zarkon says with a polite smile. Keith reciprocates the sentiment as a hand touches his shoulder again. It’s Krolia this time. She is smiling politely as well but Keith can see the sharp edge creeping in. 

“I think it’s time to leave, you look tired.” She states matter of factly. 

“Sure.” Keith replies. Zarkon looks a little surprised, but smiles small again. 

“Lieutenant Krolia, I wasn’t aware you had a son.” He says with a hint of genuine curiosity and something else. 

“I wasn’t aware I ever hid him.” Krolia replies, almost too quick to be kind hearted or conversational. Keith can tell this conversation needs to end before Krolia’s sort temper gets the best of her.

“Thank you for your time, Emperor Zarkon, but I think it’s best my mother and I get our affairs in order and head home. I’m not supposed to be here longer than my client, anyways, and he left several minutes ago.” Keith buts in before the conversation can escalate further. Krolia can get intense and protective about Keith, no matter the situation. Even if it might not end up well for them.

“If you wish to stay you may, but if you must leave early…” He stares down at Keith now. “Thank you for the offer, though if you wish to contact me further you do have my comms link, Sir.” Keith offers with a quick salute, turning to the door with his mother after Zarkon nods them away. 

* * *

Krolia and Keith are silent on the ride home. Keith knows she doesn’t exactly approve of his work with high command. He understands she doesn’t want to look at her superiors and think about her son fucking them, but the money is too good to pass up. He’s an adult, and shouldn’t live off his mother’s salary. 

“Keith, I don't feel like it's safe for you to be around your clientele right now.” Krolia says. It’s in her forced calm voice, such a tone that holds barely concealed anxieties. She’s driving her shuttle back to their shared apartment. It’s located by the Palace but also close to the royal ship docks. 

“I know, but the money is good and I don’t mind the work.” Keith assures. They had this conversation many times at this point. 

“Please, I just don’t want the _Emperor_ of all people to be fucking you. I don't want people to be hurting you because of it, either. It’s dangerous to have connections like these without proper protection.” She begs. Her shiny eyes don’t stray from the passing lights.

Keith has nothing to say to that. He can’t fight her point, and it's not like he really needs the money anyways. But it is his work, his job that he enjoys doing. His clients choose _him_ , he likes the parties and gifts they shower him in too. He wants to be wanted, even if he knows its impersonal. 

“I just want you to be happy. I know you’re lonely and I’m gone a lot of the time. Can you just try to find someone long term? For me? I just need to know you’re safe, that you won't be alone when I’m at work.” She tries, it only makes Keith angry.

“I’m not a child, and it wasn’t like I wasn’t alone then too, Krolia.” He seethes back. 

Thankfully their apartment comes into view of the shuttle windshield. Keith opens and slams the door shut behind him. On his way to the apartment door he takes off his shoes. Almost everyone who lives here is at the gala anyways; so none of his nosy neighbors can judge him from the windows. They are the families of on duty military personnel, the palace staff live in the palace itself. 

He unlocks the door with his bio scan. It slides open and he stomps in and into his room. Keith goes into his room and locks the door, screaming into his many pillows. 

Keith hears his mother walk into the apartment about a half hour later. She walks past Keith’s room, pausing at the door for a second before passing by. She closes her door quietly. The apartment is silent, though no one sleeps that night.

* * *

Krolia leaves early in the morning under Ranveig’s command. Keith eats his breakfast alone; shoveling cold leftovers into his mouth. He’s too tired to heat them up in the oven. The loveseat is warm from his body heat and the blankets he has cocooned himself into are too comfortable. 

His personal comms unit dings with a message notification. Keith shrugs it off as his mother or one of his few friends. He doesn’t want to talk about his night anymore, or how his pay was cut in half. 

Hours go by before he actually looks at his comms messages. There’s two, one from his mother and another from an unknown number. Krolia just messaged that she will be back in a decapheob when the colony is expected to be finished. 

The unknown number is inquiring about time and prices. He handed out his comms to a few potential clients that night, but definitely not his personal link. 

  
  


_Excuse me, how did you acquire this number?_

_You gave it to me last night._

_Sorry for the inconvenience but this is my personal comms, here is my business line. My mistake._

  
  


Keith sighs in frustration as he links his employer’s number. He really fucked up this time. Who was it, even? Another ding rips him from his thoughts before he can really think about it;

  
  


_It’s no matter, I actually thought maybe we could not do it through your employer. I am unable to give my personal information out as freely as your other clients._

When he hesitates to reply the unknown person texts again:

_Allow me to compensate? Will a 100,000 credit installment for the 17th of this pheob be adequate compensation for your services?_

**Anonymous sent 100,000 credits to** **your account** **!**

“What the fuck?” He gasps in shock. 100,000 credits is nothing to laugh at, that can be a whole decapheob’s salary for a skilled college educated worker. Did the client say installment? Like an invoice? The first one?

_I think I can consider something. More details? Time, activities, etc.?_

_The 17th at 19:30. Expect drinking and my compatriots are quite rambunctious when drunk. I will provide clothing and transport, but you will be done by at the very most 22:00. I must ask you to partake in conversation, even if it is not usual, as this is a non formal dinner between friends. Are those acceptable terms and conditions?_

_Yes, sounds wonderful. I will make sure I'm available for you at that time._

  
  


Keith doesn't have to work often, maybe once or twice a month. The clients bid for his time, but in the end he can say no. Sure he doesn’t get paid but more often than not he has money saved up. 

That’s why when he declines his next appointment the 18th his employer isn’t that suspicious of him. It’s not common for escorts to go without a backing or help of a business to weed through clients or even find them. He just scored big bank, anyways, so it’s not a big deal either way.

A package was left in his mail the morning of the 17th. He gave his I.D. to the mail clerk for his block of apartments. The alpha hands him his package with a none too subtle sniff. Keith leaves almost immediately. He almost wishes he was born an alpha like his mother.

The married beta whose partner is away on duty is watering her plants outside in the small allotted plots. They’re spring annuals, the flowers a bright red against the dark exterior of the apartments.

“How was the gala last night, Keith?” She asks. She always strikes conversations just to weblum out information from his worklife. She might be the second most nosy into his personal affairs, right behind Krolia herself. At least she doesn't follow him everywhere she can.

“Quite boring as per usual.” Keith replies dryly before escaping into his apartment. She has no business in the imperial court for a reason.

He opens the medium sized package on the couch. It opens with a code his client sent him earlier, the ancient Galran word for “red”. He must have really liked his outfit the other night judging by the red dress inside as well as the box code. The fabric is matte and silky, clearly expensive. He puts it on in front of the mirror. It cascades down to the floor like a pool of fog, a slit allowing his lightly haired leg to poke out. A pair of black flats sit at the bottom of the secure box, he slips them on even if there's still a little less than a varga before the transport arrives. Keith sent his measurements to his client, as well as his mailbox number. 

Keith fixes the placement of the puffy lace sleeves that reach mid forearm. The neckline is a turtleneck; matching red lace creeping up around the dress inconspicuously, just a whisper of soft texture. Keith feels good, not exposed to prying eyes but still confident in his figure. No more plunging necklines or painfully high heels, even just for the night.

Applying the mascara and a red lip tint as usual he decides to add a little extra as thanks. He puts on some healthy looking blush and pins up his braided hair. His client is most likely an alpha who is part of High Command, and if Keith knows anything about these clients is that they _love_ exposed scent glands. They like to shove their noses in them during sex, kiss and worship their fragrance. He had a client once that came from shoving his nose into Keith’s wrist.

There will be no sex tonight. When they texted further it was made clear if tonight went well there would be more appointments made between them.

The time to leave came fast, his doorbell ringing. He packed his personal comms unit in his black and white patterned handbag, the dress not having any pockets. Most clients who provide clothes add pockets if applicable so escorts can carry their comms. Keith from this knows his client does not know the finer tweaks of hiring escorts. This must be his first or second time, maybe he asked for help with the planning. Keith leaves his apartment, locking the door behind him. His mother won't be home for quite a while as per usual, but otherwise he would have left the door unlocked. 

Keith slips in the discrete shuttle with a small thanks to the driver, who held open the back door for him. There’s a handwritten note waiting inside, a kindly written letter recounting his duties tonight. To just hang in there when the client’s friends decide to get too drunk, to enjoy the food unlike at the gala. Keith wonders how long his client watched him at the gala. It’s almost unnerving, but it doesn’t feel too creepy like how other clients can be. It’s more just lighthearted comments. It’s sweet, but Keith is only amused. Others have tried to woo him for his looks, or because he’s a rare designation. He will treat this as no different for the time being, until he knows more.

He finds himself escorted through the palace. The hallways are impossibly tall, the decor imposing and historical, almost like a museum. The imposing doors the servant stops them at open with a push. A long dining table is revealed lined with chairs, set with plates and silver cutlery. Two chairs sit at the head, one of them occupied. The doors shut behind Keith, leaving him alone in the dining room with Emperor Zarkon.

“Hello again, Keith.” He calls from across the room. “Come sit down, my compatriots will be here soon, and I wish to get better acquainted.” Keith can only nod in response. He only realizes he didn’t salute when he reaches the chair Zarkon pulled out for him by his side. Keith tries to pull a salute but is stopped with a gentle hand on his wrist. He just decides to sit down, quietly shell shocked. Zarkon pushes in his chair for him before sitting down himself. 

“May I inquire about the food tonight, sir?” asks Keith politely, though tense.

“It’s a traditionally smoked steak with arrel berries and a side of bread and soup for us tonight. The others will have their own foods.” He answers factually. Zarkon pauses, as if in thought. “You may leave if you are uncomfortable.” He adds. It gives Keith whiplash. Was he that obviously apprehensive?

“Of course I’m uncomfortable, but dinner is dinner.” Keith smiles up at him. “On the positive side, you’re much better than most of my clients. Not just the ridiculous amount of money, either.” He reassures him. Why is he reassuring someone so overly confident? He thinks it’s pure instinct at this point, he would have never done this for his normal clientele. The alpha feels trustworthy, genuine.

His suspicions are almost confirmed from the face to face meeting: Zarkon is nervous, he wants this to work out well. Like he’s on a date. 

His mother’s words are remembered from the sentiment, “ _Can you just try to find someone long term?_ ” Maybe, possibly, if this night goes well, he will consider it. He won’t have to take anymore escort work, no more anonymous sex or fake affection. No more lies. 

“I’m glad to hear that, and that my eyes are privileged with the sight of you once again. You looked good last time I saw you, but the cut was much too… low.” He comments. Keith laughs a little, “Thank you, but the dress wasn't supposed to be worn as long as it was.” The response has Zarkon smiling lightly. 

“Understandable, Ranveig respects efficiency over all else.” He jests. Keith snorts at the innuendo. It’s refreshing to have someone not talking hush or unhappily about his line of work. He can’t even joke about it with his mother. She once said she tries to think Keith is going on a date when he gets ready.

“Zarkon! How are you, my good friend?” A loud and obnoxiously laid back voice inquires as they throw the heavy doors open. Zarkon peels his eyes away from Keith in a calculated fashion, seemingly unperturbed by the man. Keith’s head in a sort of juxtapose to his companion’s whips around. He’s startled from the tonal shift within the room. 

The man who enters is the Naloquadian King, Blaytz. He’s known for being enigmatic and jovial; unable to hold in a laugh for long during galactic transmissions. 

“Who is this? Taking our advice for once?” He wiggled his attannae suggestively, making Zarkon’s eyebrows twitch in irritation. Keith is only left confused. 

“My name is Keith. What advice did you try and give him?” Keith asks as the other rulers stride in in much less intrusive manners.

“To relieve some stress, since you’re an escort, right?” He says with a smirk and shrug. Zarkon does a subvocal growl, a sound that makes keith silently whimper in a submissive response. Zarkon looks over at Keith briefly, hearing the sound, only to see lower ears.

“It would be none of your business if he was.” Zarkon replies cooly, “Try to treat others with respect for one night or you can eat in your assigned quarters.” he concludes. Keith keeps his shock to himself. He surmises it would be best to keep to himself without knowing alien customs other than Altean. 

With that thought Alfor speaks up to break the room’s tension. 

“Not to be rude, but are you half Altean?” The kind and inquisitive tone does nothing to ease Keith.

“I am. Is that an issue?” He asks back, defensively. His ears are pinned back almost painfully at this point. 

“Of course not, I simply was not made aware of such a special and unique union. You are much older than most mixed children are since how recent our peace was. Was your Altean parent living on Diabazzal at the time? I know Galran families are particularly close knitted so I doubt you lived without both, correct?”

Keith knows the questions are lighthearted, so he does his best to try and not take offense.

“I lived with him on Altea when my mother was on duty during the Altean-Galran feud. I lived on Altea until my mother thought it was safe to retreive me.” He says with a scowl. He looks down at his plate uncomfortably. His hands twitch together on his lap. Zarkon creeps his hand over his to try and comfort him. Keith is releasing a lot of pheromones the others aren’t fully privy to. He might just take the offer to leave at this point, the silence overbearing.

“Why don’t we change the subject to the food Zarkon is providing us tonight? I fear at this rate Zarkon may never be married if we keep scaring away his rare indulgences.” says Trigel with a seething look at her friends. “I am duly apologetic for their insensitivities towards certain topics. I’m Trigel, and It’s a pleasure to meet someone who Zarkon thinks is worthy of his scarce company.” Keith thanks her silently with a tight smile. He understands now they are only being intrusive because they care. Much like his overbearing mother, they want all the best for their friend, even if the way they do it is quite backwards

“Yes, tell us what you’ve prepared for us tonight!” Gyrgan asks. They soon delve into more friendly chatter, purposely less focused on picking apart Keith’s existence. 

Finally the food is set out by servants, and Blaytz flirts with his server. He is of course scolded by Zarkon; they are here to do their job, not to date. Blaytz snarks something back about how Zarkon needs to stop doing his job, and is rightfully kicked in the shin by Trigel. His blue skin is blushing lightly. Keith scoffs.

He digs into his steak and stew slowly, silently watching the group chatter.

“So Keith, what do you do for a living?” Gyrgan inquires. Keith stops the forkful of meat he was about to politely shovel into his face midway. It’s been a half hour since he last talked, so he is taken by surprise. He sets down his fork before speaking.

“I often volunteer at local orphanages. My mother is paid well as a respected Lieutenant so I don’t have to work.” He explains. He is partially lying, so it’s best he keeps it short. Keith actually does volunteer at orphanages in the capital. He likes to help children who were like him. They don’t have anyone to depend upon, almost no one but care takers come back regularly. He makes sure to come back four times a month, and they all know him very well by now. He also donates extra money to them for toys. The government allotts plenty of money to orphanages, but they often still wear old clothes and eat stale bread. 

“What an upstanding citizen, no wonder Zarkon was attracted to you of all people.” Blaytz snarks again, his butt still hurt from his scolding.

“At least I don’t act like a child.” Keith glares cooly. “Maybe if you acted like an ‘upstanding citizen’ you could get a date yourself.” He finishes. He tries his best to keep his cool until a grumbling laugh barks from his side. The table follows Zarkon’s lead, barking out uncontrollable laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Good one, guys.” Blaytz mumbles. He blushes easily, Keith notices.

Zarkon lays his hand over his again under the table. It’s a soft touch, apprehensive and unsure. His shoulders are tense, Keith figures you could take a ruler and get right angle measurements. 

Keith weaves his lithe fingers between Zarkon’s, squeezing lightly. He would have never thought Zarkon to be a nervous or self-conscious person. Keith figures he just cares about what his friends think about him. He really cares about _them_ , too, even if he doesn’t show it all the time.

* * *

Zarkon escorts him to the shuttle after dinner. As the night went on, everyone settled into real friendliness and understanding. 

“I truly hope you would consider another, _more private_ , dinner next week. The 21st, perhaps?” Zarkon asks, body stoic and straight like a pillar. Keith tucks away a small laugh at the clear Alpha body language.

“I’ll look forward to it.” He reassures. Zarkon finally takes a breath. He takes Keith’s right hand in his and brings it to his lips. They’re chapped, and Keith can tell they are often worried by sharp canines. His skin is rough and leathery, a feature from his desert dwelling ancestors. The roughness of his skin is welcomed by Keith’s, a warm blush creeping around his body. 

The respectful affection causes pheromones to sweat out of his pores to egg on his potential mate. He wipes his wrist lower to Zarkon’s neck glands when his own gesture is done to swap scents. Keith doesn’t want any doubt in the emperor’s mind he is disinterested or using him. 

“You paid me more than enough money for just tonight. Any more dates after tonight are free, got it?” Keith orders. Zarkon nods silently with a small smile.

“Whatever you wish, Keith.” He pauses for a second, “You better be on your way, It’s getting late. I’m sure tonight was exhausting.” He says as he corrals Keith into the transport. Zarkon holds one of Keith’s hands to help him in, and the servant closes the door between them after a final good night. 

Keith on the way back leans his head on the seat cushions while looking out at the night sky, and when he exits the car into his apartment his bed is the most comfortable thing in the world. He strips off his dress while in bed, kicking off the flats to the floor. While the night had a rocky start, he came to enjoy the loose rules and expectations. He also came to genuinely enjoy Zarkon’s strangely shy company. He had his moments of calculated boldness, but nothing was necessarily uncomfortable by first date standards. He is glad Zarkon is too anxious to call these dates, as he wouldn’t have ever agreed otherwise. 

Maybe his mother was right; he did need something more serious.


	2. Festivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, I will be posting more in a series, since I think the main premise of the story is done at this point. I have a few ideas, but if you want to comment some things you would like to see, that is more than welcomed!

They message each other frequently, and when Zarkon is forced to reschedule their date, Keith isn’t too worried. While he terminated his contract with the escort company his life expenses will be easily paid by his saved up money and Krolia’s help if unlikely needed. If things keep going as well with Zarkon as they are now, he might not even need to live here anymore. He looks down out the window of his room down towards his neighbor’s red annuals. Keith never really cared for species names or names in general. They often feel inaccurate; too final a feeling. A marriage of convenience, really. He always wanted what his parents had. Or atleast what his father said they had. Keith had never actually had both at the same time when he could remember. Their last night together is memorialized in a photograph now sitting on Keith’s bedside table. Krolia has the original copy with her at all times. She has a special compartment in her uniform for it specially made to only open with 3 different biosignature and voice scans of her or Keith. It’s also air and water tight, able to survive extreme conditions her body couldn’t. She spent an entire year's salary getting it made and waited just as long to get it approved for her uniform. Keith smiles down at the annuals in thought. He loves his mother, and he thinks he is quite charmed by his new flame as well.

He looks down at his comms unit in his lap as it dingswith a notification. He swipes it open after seeing Zarkon’s contact; a red flower he sent him yesterday evening in a bouquet. It’s a popular symbol of romantic interest, it’s almost comical he sent them at this point. And ever the traditionalist, he also sent some more artisanal gifts along with it. Jewelry made with teeth, gems and tied off hair from whatever beast he slew, and quite a few bracelets and hair clips. Everything is done semi-traditionally, blending ancient techniques with modern twists to still make them fashionable. He wears atleast one piece of jewelry at a time. It does wonders to ward away pushy alphas. 

_ I have some free time right now if you wish to video call? _

Keith instantly sends a video request that's accepted just as quickly. 

“It is wonderful to see you again, Keith.” Zarkon greets eagerly. He’s sitting at his desk, papers and comms stacked neatly around. His pen is held in his gigantic hand waiting expectantly over a signature space.

“You don’t really have free time, do you?” Keith teases. He smiles brighter when Zarkon blushes a bit.

“I thought even if I will be less productive, your company will simply make my legal work less dull.” He reasons, not realizing Keith is just poking fun.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, I was just teasing a bit. You look good flustered.” He reassures him. Zarkon merely nods with a brief hum while turning down to sign the paper. “I do like your company, though, too.” Keith says. “And thank you for the gifts. I liked them alot. Did you hunt the animal yourself? What is it?” Keith rambles with no immediate response from the busy Alpha.

“I did, quadrant 56-B-7e on a heavily mountainous planet. The terrain was a particularly difficult one, and the beast a formidable foe; roughly 16 feet tall and double in length. I hunted it alone for a pheob and killed it with my own hands. These creatures are not easily studied and I am the only one who survived an encounter during a hunt.” He dryly brags. Keith notices when Zarkon’s alpha side shows through his factual exterior. The want to please, to provide anything and everything for the holder of his affections. Keith feels instinct guide him as well, the need to want, to nitpick everything he does. So far he has not disappointed Keith in the slightest.

“You only for the best standards, huh.” Keith teases again. He is so easy to tease; a show of the neck here, a slow blink there, and Zarkon is easily flustered. 

“I only strive for the best. The best for me, my people and of course you.” Zarkon says seriously. Keith goes to respond but is cut off.

“Accompany me to the midyear festival. I wish to reveal our relationship to the public as is custom, and even earlier to the alliance, if you are so inclined to. It will entail you living in the palace with me, and uptaking duties as the royal consort. Though I can assure you,-” Zarkon is cut off by Keith's “Zarkon.”. He looks startled by the interruption, but stops to listen regardless.

“Of course I will court you. But I wish my mother would be called back from duty to oversee the rest of the courting. It’s important to both me and her, regardless of whom it is to I’m courting.” Keith explains. 

Zarkon nods seriously, “I will see to it personally it is done. Should I notify her right away about our intentions?” He asks innocently. Keith pales and ears droop.

“No, no, I will. She might come back to end you herself if she catches wind of this, authorized leave or not.” Keith reasons. “I will break the news to her right away. We still have quite a few pheobs of courting to work through. That should give us plenty of time to get our affairs in order.” Keith said. 

Announcing their relationship will officially make Keith the Royal Consort, and if they wish to marry they will announce that later, usually a few months or even years later, and a year in advance to their wedding day. It’s common practice for galra to have several “official” stages to their relationship, as they only choose one partner for life. It’s helpful to have time to back out, to be together without commitment, and then more and more until they share responsibilities equally. When that happens the couple is usually officially or ready to be married. 

Keith enjoys Zarkon’s company, as a person he may be intimidating but also quite thoughtful and sweet. He paid attention to what Keith didn’t like on the first day they met at the gala: the high heels, low neckline and the prospect of staying late. Though not immediately apparent, Zarkon still managed to find ways to make Keith feel good without knowing much about him. It doesn't help Keith was always quietly looking for a partner like that; someone to pay attention and care for him. 

“Keith, do you have any obligations on the 13th?” Zarkon asks out of the blue. “No, I’m free all but the 10th and 25th of each month when I’m volunteering.” Keith explains. He told Zarkon that he did actually volunteer, he didn’t lie about that at their first date. 

“I have a meeting scheduled on the 13th. This one is more formal, so hopefully Blaytz will behave. We will be discussing the trade treaties between everyone, and I will announce our commitment to the higher echelon court.” Zarkon explains evenly while writing a short memo, stamping the royal insignia this time. 

“I hope this turns out better than last time did.” Keith says, opening a writing document to try and compose a message to his mother. Maybe a script, he should probably video call for this.

“It will, I will make sure of it.” Zarkon says seriously, “They should be more formal with the other secondary alliance members as well as the rest of our respective courts in attendance. I will personally reprimand them myself, Keith, you shall not be made a fool of again.” He stares directly at Keith while he promises Keith honour. It was such an alpha thing to do, making Keith smile lightly. 

“Thank you. I’ll make sure not to embarrass you, either.” Keith says, a blush starting to grow at how Zarkon’s look became more intense.

“Nothing you could do would ever embarrass me, love.” He assures me. Keith smiles wider and wider, and Zarkon smiles back. 

The 13th came by quickly, Keith and Zarkon decided to spend the day together before the meeting. Their attendance is required by noon; and so they sit together in Zarkon’s office. A servant brings them a late breakfast of fried eggs, crispy meat and toasted bread. The aroma makes Keith smile and close his eyes in happiness. Zarkon brushes away a loose hair behind Keith’s ear, making him open his eyes in mild surprise. They feel tender together. It’s not like an open wound, but rather a tender newborn babe. They are safe together, happy, wrapped in each other's orbits. 

Keith leans in close, lips parted and eyes lidded. Zarkon gasps lightly in awe of Keith. They lean into each other’s arms, Zarkon lifting Keith off his own chair and onto the Alpha’s lap. Their kiss is deep and tongue tied when the door opens after the briefest of knocks. Zarkon pulls away reluctantly with a glare that could turn an empire to stone. Gyrgan is at the door along with Trigel. They hold various pieces of tech and trays of hot food. Keith looks at the clock to see it’s still about 10 o’clock; they are considerably early.

“There better be a world ending catastrophe.” Zarkon finally breaks the silence. “Or you will not speak a word of this.” He finishes, a bit out of breath from the kiss. Not that he ran out of breath necessarily, but that he forgot to breathe in the heat of the moment. His hand that wandered to Keith’s ass doesn’t budge and even squeezes tighter. Keith gasps silently, bucking his hips involuntarily and grabbing Zarkon’s shoulders tighter. 

“We- yes. It will be best we left.” Gyrgan stutters out. Trigel slams the door shut, making Keith laugh at their plight.

Zarkon tangles his fingers into Keith’s hair, pulling his face back to his own. Keith moans into the kiss feverishly.

“We should eat our food before- before it gets-” Keith tries between huffs and puffs, kisses and deep licks. “Before it gets cold.” He finishes. 

Zarkon huffs a bit, allowing Keith to turn towards their food. Keith doesn’t go back to his own seat, his lap safe and warm. Keith finally digs into his warm food and Zarkon follows suit. 

Once their food is eaten they start to prepare for the meeting. Zarkon dons his armor over his undersuit; Keith is helped into the Royal Consort armor. He was allowed to make some changes, but the royal crest and the most important design motifs stayed the same. He just added some more masculine features and shapes to the armor pieces since the latest design was for an alpha woman. 

Zarkon overthrew the last emperor and then won the Kral Zera, defeating his old commanding officers in single combat. Between making his courting gift (he might have never even used) and becoming emperor, Zarkon is both a formidable foe and fierce lover; his love for his people and the people he considers close are well protected under him. The last emperor, a tempermental alpha, tried to colonize and destroy the people in their current alliance. He waged a two centuries long war, creating instability and pain, the Galran people still recovering their lives and culture. It has only been a hundred fifty years since Zarkon became emperor. The war was over nearly two decades after Keith was born. That’s why it took so long for Krolia to retrieve him from Altea. Keith remembers he should call his mother.

Keith tilts his head as Zarkon clips the necklace around Keith’s neck. He cradles the omega from behind, kissing his neck and jaw and then up to his cheek, clipping on earrings. They split after a servant knocks on the door, and the stand side by side.

“My Emperor, the dignitaries are seated with refreshments in the meeting hall.” The beta servant says. Zarkon tilts his head in thanks and the servant makes their leave. Keith looks up at Zarkon with confidence, giving each other a last once over.

“Let’s go, then?” Keith asks. Zarkon merely takes his hand in his for a quick kiss to the inner wrist. Keith uses the proximity of his hand to cup Zarkon’s jawline. 

  
  


They entered the grand hall together. Zarkon’s hand is placed protectively on Keith’s lower back.

Everyone is staring at Keith, mouths gaping. A few gasps resound and break the deafening silence. Keith’s face is pulled from neutrality to an ever growing scowl.

“By my Grandpop’s own mustache hair, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you both.” A ginger man greets in genuine pleasure and excitement. He’s Altean and seems to be Alfor’s new advisor. Zarkon thinks this must be the retired one’s son.

“All the pleasure is mine. Alfor has spoken unusually high of your merits.” Zarkon greets back. “Alfor, it is also a pleasure to see you today. Where are the others?” He asks. Keith can detect real curiosity behind the mask of indifference.

“They said they would be a bit late. They looked a little… disheveled. Did something happen?” Alfor explains, and then asks. 

Keith’s ears twitch at the sound of whispering from the commander's seats. He looks over, inconspicuously, he hopes, to see several video calls. Sendak, Ranveig, Gnov and quite a few others have their favorite lieutenants next to them. Including a fuming Krolia. Keith promptly looks away. He shouldn't have put off that call.

“I wasn’t notified of any particularly disturbing incidents today. In fact, the most disturbing behavior is their tardiness.” Zarkon snarks. Keith and Alfor smile at the joke, some others pale or start to get nervous. 

“I’m sure they’ll turn up. The council hall would’ve been in chaos if they showed up on time, anyways.” Keith snarks back. Zarkon smiles at the response, repositioning his hand loosely around Keith’s waist. He smiles back up at him before continuing the conversation with Alfor. Zarkon speaks with another dignitary that was brave enough to step up and chat. Keith and Alfor talked about Altean politics, almost as if Alfor was quizzing him on it. Keith answered to the best of his abilities, but he honestly doesn’t know as much as he should. Keith in turn quizzed him about Galran courting rituals as a “relevant topic”. He failed more miserably than Keith did, failing to remember the finer intricacies. Keith wouldn’t normally be this mean or insufferable; but from the way Alfor is acting he deserves it. The others have already come to terms with Keith in a short amount of time, why is Alfor being so difficult?

Keith refuses to talk to Ranveig or the crew of commanders. He can’t face Krolia, who is justifiably and uncontrollably pissed her son would hide something like this. 

They mingled for a bit longer until Trigel, Blaytz and Gyrgan finally showed their red faces. The two office crashers can’t even look at the couple’s direction. Blaytz on the other hand is way too keen on the idea of them.

“So, were you two on another  _ date  _ earlier?” He asks with a smirk.

“We were finishing paperwork in the office. Actually preparing for the meeting, y’know.” Keith answers before Zarkon can get defensive. “It was productive.” Zarkon says in his defence. Keith smiles at Blaytz with a sharp edge.  _ Be nice _ .

The meeting is boring as all business meetings are. Krolia’s screen went blank after a screen cut from both her and Ranveig. Sendak looks sickened to even look at Keith. Keith, understandably, feels like shit. Literally all these commanders groped him and even paid him to fuck them at the gala just earlier last pheob. He knows it doesn’t really matter, he’s not the one in charge, he isn’t their boss right now. But after Zarkon and him get married… 

Keith feels sick now too, and tries not to think about it. He just tries to enjoy talking with these foreign dignitaries who are trying desperately to impress him. Zarkon appreciates this, as it allows deals and treaties to go by much smoother. The aliens feel more comfortable talking to Keith than Zarkon, the latter being more intimidating than the former. The more relaxed state Zarkon is in helps considerably, too. In Galran terms, they are head over heels swooning over each other and most the politicians don’t even realize it.

After the conference and treaty writing all the delegates sit for a late lunch. Keith sits at Zarkon’s right; Alfor, Trigel, Gyrgan and Blaytz sit closest to them, and the rest of the delegates sit at the remaining spots. Keith and Zarkon make their own conversation about the summer festival. Gyrgan pipes up about his people’s wandering bazaars that might be visiting on their way to Blaytz’s planet. Their people had made an official agreement to share a trade celebration later this year around the summer festival on Diabazzal. Zarkon of course agrees to the visit. 

“We’ll look forward to it.” Keith says.

A delegate, who looks like they have a cat’s head, tail and paws, pipes up about how they think the others are being excluded from exclusive trade deals and opportunities. That Zarkon is playing favorites. 

“You did not open your borders to us, nor did you wish to enter as constraining a treaty as the others.” Zarkon explains. Their hair stands on end, frizzled up. The fluffy tail thumps against their chair in agitation. They scowl and take a swig of wine, the other delegates rolling their eyes, or other comparable actions. 

The six of them retreat to a private recreation room. Keith curls up into Zarkon’s side, squished between his armored side and the arm of the loveseat. Alfor and Gyrgan sit on a couch adjacent to them. Blaytz sits on the floor with his back to the couch, and Trigel sits on the back of the couch behind Gyrgan. 

Blaytz is smirking wide at the new couple, the other two looking away or deciding to talk to each other. Alfor just seems confused by the slightly strange demeanor of his friends. 

“Now I’m truly worried something happened. Why is everyone acting so aloof?” Alfor asks. Keith can’t help but be a bit embarrassed by what had happened, but it wasn’t his issue either.

“Nothing embarrassing enough to warrant such a reaction.” Zarkon snarks. He sets his shoulders high up when Blaytz pipes up in glee.

“You were basically eating your toy’s face off in your office!” Blaytz grinned. Everyone pales. Zarkon growls and stands up in palpable anger.

“Do not speak of him in such a manner!” He threatens. His alpha scent turns immediately aggressive, a territorial smell used to ward off opponents. Keith freezes by instinct alone. It’s his alpha, his hind brain supplies; stay still, be quiet, do not be noticed by the attackers. Your alpha will protect you. He will lay his life down to protect you. 

Fighting instinct, Keith speaks up and grips Zarkon’s much larger hand, “Zarkon, sit back down.” He nearly whispers, pulling. Zarkon’s ears twitch to listen to the gentle voice, sitting back down stiffly, reluctantly. He truly wanted to fight Blaytz.

The room is dead silent. 

Keith’s communicator breaks the tense atmosphere with one of anxiousness. It’s Krolia. The group leaves the room and Zarkon is holding Keith close to his side again. Keith opens the line.

“Explain yourself, why didn’t you tell me?” Krolia demands, a heartbroken edge to her words. 

“I meant to, I was going to tell you this week. We were already making plans to have you there during the official announcement.” Keith tries. 

“I would like to speak to my son alone.” Is all Krolia says in response. Zarkon gives Keith’s hands a squeeze, “I’ll be in my office.” He whispers with a quick scenting before walking out the door in a tense flurry of cape. 

“I’m sorry we fought about your job before I left, but I didn’t mean get into a relationship as fast as you can. I didn’t want you to feel pressured because of my frustrated words. I need you to be safe, Keith.” Krolia nearly begs, bringing Keith to tears. 

“I do want this, I didn’t do this to please you. I genuinely want to be with him; I like him as a person, and I know he cares about me.” Keith tries, a throaty sob trying to escape from his chest. 

“If you want this, I promise I will be there for you. I just want you to tell me these things. We can’t lose anymore important vargas, quintents, pheobs _ , decapheobes, _ I can’t lose you again.” Krolia chokes up. 

“Thank you, Mom. I can’t lose you again, either.” He replies wetly. 

“When are you planning to announce to everyone?” Krolia asks suddenly. 

“The summer festival. More people are expected to attend this year.” Krolia nods in agreement. “That's only a pheob and a half away, is that long enough to decide?” She asks, concerned. 

“Yeah, he makes me feel really good. Like… I feel protected and cared for and he respects me. He didn’t care if I was an escort, or anything else others wouldn’t like about an omega. We want each other because we make eachother happy. We just work together, you know?” Keith explains bashfully. He is smiling a bit, the corners of his mouth quirking up uncontrollably. 

“If you truly feel that way, I will support you and your union. But I will remind you if he ever hurts you I will destroy him, no matter the cost.” Krolia growls. Keith nods in agreement, unhappy by the notion. He thinks Zarkon feels the same way, already.

“Do you wish to speak to him? I can give him your contact information.” Keith suggests. “Your personal one.” He adds. Krolia declines quickly, saying she has to go back to her post. Keith nods in agreement. He explains what happened earlier with Blaytz, without the extra sexual details, to her fast; needing advice. Krolia growls in anger, “He called you a what! Does he have no respect for your position? What your status as an omega means?” She asks. “Don’t ever forget you are worth countless wars, harvests and nations. Do not be afraid to remind him, or anyone else.” She reminds Keith. He is sure she will do it for him.

“Thank you, goodbye, Krolia. I should really check on Zarkon. Though I’m sure he’s fine, the others might be getting murdered as we speak.” He jokes. Krolia only deadpans further. She reminds him of her offer of assasination, and he cuts the transmission abruptly. He is only angered and frustrated by the threats. He just wants his family, official or otherwise, to get along.

The office doors open to his biosignature. Zarkon is at his desk working on a foot tall stack of paperwork. 

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks, getting no answer. He saunters up to the large desk, reaching out to hold Zarkon’s face in his hands. The alpha grumbles in pleasure, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist. The man pulls the other into a deeper hug, Keith’s hands moving to hold the alpha’s back in turn. Zarkon breathes into Keith’s soft pecs, nuzzling the small amount of fatty tissue. They release complimenting pheromones, a loop of affection and comfort.

“I am deeply insulted on both our behalves about the treatment others have given you.” He mumbles into Keith’s chest. Keith purrs, reassuring him that he doesn’t mind too much. “I care about how others see you. You deserve the same respect as I do. Though I fear the outsiders do not truly respect my authority.” Keith is silent for a moment before replying. 

“Why don’t we do a more traditional display for the announcement?” Keith suggest.

“Are you comfortable performing in front of the crowd?” Zarkon asks. “You’ll be there for me, I don’t have anything to worry about.” Keith assures him.

The traditional route will entail using the arena for an all out battle between suitors using weapons. Keith will fight his last standing suitor in hand to hand combat. Both will yield in the end as a show of equals, even if they aren’t necessarily equals in fighting prowess. As Zarkon said, it’s a realistic performance, and they will get hurt to sell the show. Though if they wanted to go even more traditional, Zarkon would have to kill Keith’s suitors and get both his and his mother’s blessings; entailing a fight with both of them. Usually if a suitor wanted to try and forgo this process, they were killed by the family, the clan or even the omega or beta themself. It was a long arduous practice, that of course fell out of use after safe commercial contraceptives were invented, and were required to be used by all the dynamics starting at puberty. Though instinct still tends to rear its ugly heads in modern courtships, as well as suitor fights and parent’s attacking unwanted suitors, though those don’t often end in a lot of bloodshed.

“I’m fear I will hurt you, and I worry it will be for naught. The outsiders do not appreciate the passion of battle as much as our own kind does. I do not wish for any pain you experience to be for nothing, nor do I wish to impress any outsiders. I simply wish to be with you, my love.” He mumbles into Keith’s chest. Keith simply nuzzles Zarkon more, squishing Zarkon’s face into his pecs. He nips an ear suggestively, a buck of his hips and wandering lips. Zarkon puts distance between them, purring but also looking disinterested in the activities. 

“I have work to do, and you have a fitting scheduled for your toile fitting, as well as choosing the decorations for the private venue. We will finish this later, my love.” He reasons while returning a nip to the ear, then to the lips. He doesn’t seem to be following his own advice; deepening the kiss even further. He pulls away suddenly. His skin is flushed, but he forces himself to regain focus. 

“I will have a servant show you to the dressing room.” He says. Keith nuzzles Zarkon’s jaw before pulling away himself, “It was really nice to see you today. I would show you all my hard work, but, you have to wait to see.” Keith smiles cheekily, feeling a little cheated out of some steamy office sex. Well, he’s not sure he wants his first time with Zarkon to be in his office, but he simply doesn’t care where at this point.

The pantsuit he is planning to wear is just the consort armor with more festive modifications. The dark gray jacket has lace underneath, peeking out from the open front. The maroon lace raises up into a swan necked collar held together by a gold collar chain. His shoulders still have the signature puffs. 

Keith adjusts the white linen collar, asking for adjustments as he inspects the tailor's work so far. The cut around his hips are too tight, the shirt too short to tuck in. His collar chain he commissioned isn’t done yet, but the jewelers said it would be done by next week. It’s a simple little thing, two black opals that reminded him of the night sky. Zarkon would like the ensemble; and most importantly his mother would appreciate his hard work. She was joking that he finally found “Another person’s sugar to eat.” He cut the transmission immediately, then picked it up again when she called back a few minutes later, her silent laughter still dripping from her voice. 

He reviewed the venue two weeks later. All the non perishable items are already there, being apart of the palace grounds. It’s where the small party will take place after the public announcements and speeches. They decided on a less traditional announcement after a bit of back and forth, so no big fight in the arena together. Zarkon did suggest a more private fight, making Keith blush. Ever since his lover became less anxious about being with Keith, he has lost most qualms about being suggestive. It can be quite embarrassing to Keith when Zarkon and his mother are teasing him relentlessly. They tease the same way, having the same dry humor. Only difference is that Zarkon holds Keith lovingly after, giving him a chaste kiss on the brow. When Keith looks back at his mother, she is smiling lightly in amusement. Keith returns the gesture, happy they are finally getting along. 

The Summer Festival came ever closer, and so is the announcement of Keith’s royal status, and their engagement, to the populace. All the palace staff know at this point, but they uphold their swear to secrecy with their life to every last detail. 

He and Zarkon haven’t had sex yet, agreeing to wait until it’s more official to avoid any accidents or unnescessary questions. His omega status will bring up the question of “How many cubs are you planning to have together?” or other intrusive media questions. Zarkon says he has all the right to not answer, and he wishes him not to even think of things he does not wish to think about. No need to add on additional stress. 

Keith sends a message to the orphanage the previous day, and a physical note to the children. He sends some candy, toys and other things he knows the older kids would enjoy like drawing supplies. 

The head caretaker sends him a video request the next morning at breakfast, he of course picks it up without thinking. He is just in Krolia’s apartment, afterall. No one is around. 

“Hello, Keith. The charges are quite disappointed in your absence today.” The older woman smiles. She is a severe woman only in presentation. Eydis is a truly kind person, if overworked. The other staff in the background are serving the children breakfast, feeding the babies and troublesome toddlers. Most are laughing or trying to go back to bed.

“I am busy, sadly. But I do think you all will see me at the festival. Feel free to come talk to me.” Keith offers. She is about to respond when a toddler shrieks out Keith’s name while pointing at the screen. He waves with a smile, greeting all the circling children.

“Why are your clothes strange?” A young teen asks curiously, and Keith flusters. He forgot he was wearing the outfit he designed for today. The festival will be their second “official” date; meaning after the political junk, they will enjoy themselves alone at the markets.

“I, they’re for the festival today. Just wanted to wear something nicer.” Keith answers, nervously. No one is supposed to actually know other than the couple’s family, even with less royalty involved.

“Keith looks so pretty today!” Another little kid says as they walk upon the screen.

“Thank you, everyone. I really must be going now.” Keith says his goodbyes. He can smell Krolia’s breakfast cooking in the kitchen. His stomach growls at him, fighting his brain saying he should finish getting dressed. 

He puts on his heeled boots, tucks the pants into the boots and then tucks his shirt into the pants. The door to his room opens, Krolia’s smiling face peeking in. 

“Breakfast is ready.” She pauses, walking in and fixing the tucks, “You look handsome.” She compliments. “Thank you.” He pulls her into a hug. They hold each other tightly, Krolia shedding a few tears in happiness. “I never thought I would see this day when we were separated all those years ago, so I’m honoured to be here with you. Come eat breakfast, you’ll need it to deal with all the press and media today.” She pulls away and leads him out to the small table. Keith remembers when Zarkon visited incognito the other day. He barely fit in the smaller seats, dwarfing the table. They opted for the couch, and when Krolia got back from the shipyard, she nearly killed him when she found him in the apartment. Keith rushed back from his room after hearing the commotion, calming down his mother. The situation was remedied quickly after she realized he wasn’t breaking in. Keith really wanted to tear off the civilian shirt he was wearing, the collar not as high as what Zarkon usually wore, exposing his neck. Keith got  _ wet _ looking at the tight pants he was wearing. They stretched around his filled out sheath and toned muscles. The shirt did as well, but was a bit looser, and tied at the waist by a sash. Keith hooked a finger in the “v” cut in the collar, pulling him down in a kiss.

“Is your neighbor always this intrusive?” Zarkon asks. Keith rolls his eyes, agreeing. “She is always asking about things she has no right to ask.” He supplies. They sit side by side, not getting anything past chaste in front of Krolia. 

“You two should break it up, I need to have a talk with my son.” She nods him away. Zarkon agrees, getting up and leaving after a kiss goodbye from Keith. 

A small shuttle picks Keith up from his apartment an hour before he has to show his face. He slips out with Krolia, who will bless the union. Neither of them have any other living family to confirm their relationship, but Krolia is feeling ecstatic to be the one to do it. Their neighbor isn’t there when they leave, and Krolia looks around for a quick second before taking her knife to some of the flowers. They snicker a little at the payback for the years of nuisance she gave them. 

When they settle into their seats, Krolia weaves the flowers into his hair. The red petals match the lace of the outfit. The sweet perfume they release compliments his natural scent, and he remembers he promised Zarkon not to wear perfume over his pheromones. He shrugs mentally. He will like whatever he gives him. Keith knows this well at this point.

Zarkon helps out Krolia first, being pulled into a hug by the woman. She whispers something to him that makes him instantly tense. She pulls away abruptly, pushing him towards Keith. The couple blushes as Keith takes his hand. Zarkon bows and brings his lips to Keith’s inner wrist. Just like their first parting, Keith cups his jawline. Keith leans in and pecks Zarkon’s blushing cheeks, one kiss after another. Zarkon is then pushed aside by Keith, who wanted to get up but his hulking lover is too mushy and shell shocked to move. Once Zarkon recovers, he shows them to his office, connected to his rooms. Keith helps him get ready, not that Zarkon needs the help. It’s mostly to get their scents to mix. Zarkon’s large hands fumble a bit with Keith’s collar chain, his face tinted pink again. Keith laughs a bit at his flustered state, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

“We should leave soon, I think the speeches start in a few minutes.” Krolia reminds them. 

“Of course, thank you.” Zarkon coughs, straightening himself up, fixing anything left amiss in the mirror, then takes a once over at Keith before taking his soft hand in his again.

“Are you ready, love?” He asks, “Of course I am.” Keith replies with determination. They leave Zarkon’s rooms together, moving towards the palace steps. The festival officially starts after the speeches.

The doors open with a flourish from the guards, revealing the cheering masses. They quiet immediately when the trio walks onto the palace landing, Zarkon’s hand on the small of Keith’s back. A murmur goes through the crowd until Zarkon clears his throat through the mic. 

“It is a wondrous day to announce Keith and I’s courtship to the people of Diabazzal and It’s colonies. We fully expect this courtship to bring both internal and external growth to our great empire, and further expand the prosperity to our great people. I congruence to this news, we have arranged negotiations with our close allies of Rygnarath to bolster the festivities this year.” Zarkon pauses, and Keith continues as planned, “And on that note, we would like to officially commence this year's midyear festival.” Keith smiles for the cameras and news reports. They turn and kiss, a natural feeling at this point, but basically required. Keith has to remind himself that this is news to everyone as they cheer their approval. After the couple parts, the immense crowd disperses. Only reporters and camera bots remain to interview the royal couple. 

An alpha reporter comes up first when the guards are told to allow reporters up. He is tall and hairless, eyes glared slightly at Keith for a split second before turning to Zarkon.

“Is it true that the Consort used to be an escort?” He asks, and Zarkon glares a stare of malice. 

“That is of no concern.” He replies, the reporter looking confused. 

“Isn’t it uncomely for someone of this particular status?” He questions further.

“If you wish to fight in the arena, you may continue your slander of my partner.” Zarkon turns them away from the reporter to another, a beta male covered in fur.

‘What are some of your first plans of action as Royal Consort, and later Emperor Consort?” He asks. Keith replies right away, only a second of thought, “I am planning to make reforms for certain government funding and services I noticed could be improved. Some are small like improving public spaces like parks all the way to cleaner renewable energy sources. Certain reforms will take longer than others, but I’m mostly looking forward to helping our Emperor with his duties, and supporting him as my partner as best I can. Our people are always going to be our priority while making decisions together.” Keith finishes, Zarkon agreeing with a hum and a nod. 

“Keith is very intelligent and resourceful. He has more experience with the intricacies of life as a common citizen than I, and has already brought many thoughtful perspectives to discussions.” Keith smiles up at him, Zarkon’s hand snaking tighter around Keith encouragingly. 

The Alpha reporter taps Keith’s shoulder confrontationally. It’s extremely disrespectful, and when Zarkon notices he growls at the Alpha. It’s the loud growl, warning away opponents from his territory. Keith gives into Omega instinct and steps behind Zarkon for protection, even if he didn’t necessarily need it. Keith figures he could fight the reporter himself, but why try when you have an Alpha to fight for you? Zarkon doesn’t bother to turn towards the reporter fully, merely unsnaking his arm around Keith to push the Alpha away. He then silently signals for the guards to remove him from the premises. He is promptly taken away. Zarkon resumes how they were before, nuzzling the top of Keith’s head for a split second before some other reporters take their turns. 

They know better than to rush in and ask questions as quickly as they can; a sign of disrespect. If enough of them have good manners, Zarkon will often stay to answer some press questions. Though today, he has had enough of the invasive Alphas trying to slander his consort; the numbers rising to around three or four, all asking nearly the same questions. They are all escorted away.

Eventually, Zarkon simply excuses them midway through a conversation when the fifth Alpha reporter had the gall to try and scent Keith, grabbing his wrist and stuffing his nose into the veins. Keith pulled away in disgust. Zarkon threw the Alpha down the palace dias himself, then silent as a cold sweeping death, strode back through the palace doors with Keith. His large hands pull him up in a bridal carry, deciding he did not walk fast enough to keep up with his frustrated pace. Keith can see Krolia waving at them from the doorway, not looking too concerned. She was holding herself back, watching to see if,  _ how _ , Keith’s chosen Alpha would protect her son. She obviously found it acceptable enough, as if possibly killing a man was good in any way. Keith’s hind brain though, thought the notion incredibly attractive. He shifted in Zarkon’s tight hold, growing wet. He was nearing his heat soon, a monthly occurrence. They are an annoyance at best, an Alpha attractor at worst. They cause him mood swings and cramps, and make his sex drive go out of control. The days before, where he is now, strengthens his scent a bit, on par with a small bouquet of flowers, versus a usual one in strength. 

Zarkon pushes open his office doors, using the other arm to hold Keith. The flowers in Keith’s hair have started to dislodge themselves, and Keith opted to put them in Zarkon’s uniform collar. They look off putting there, and a little funny. Keith huffs out a bit of a laugh. Zarkon’s ears twitch in confusion.

“You’re really cute, you know that, right?” Keith asks, a small smirk on his face.

“Most would disagree.” He replies frankly, wandering over to his private rooms. He has to open them with his hand print and a bio scan, which takes a few seconds to complete. Keith can tell Zarkon is frustrated by the extra time it took, he can smell his Alpha’s scent roll off in waves from his neck glands. He tucked his face into the closest one, breathing in the arousal and territorial aggression that was triggered by all the Alphas. Keith figures he might smell complementary, a lighter masking scent to help him hide. An Alpha is just an Omega’s protection, their biological bodyguard for their pregnant vulnerabilities and to help protect their young. Keith blushes at the thought of having pups. How Zarkon would take good care of them while he recovered, and then when he woke up to feed them, how Zarkon would then take care of him. It’s common for Omegas to be indisposed for months at a time after birthing their larger than average litter sizes, usually two to four, or even five or six at a time. He doesn’t really want pups right now, being on birth control, and even then he is expected to have around three or four pups. He remembers the times he went to get his egg count recorded, and that was the average number. Three to four.

His thoughts are interrupted when he is thrown onto the cushiony bed. It is quite large, much too big for even his lover, and surprisingly is covered in lots of pillows. Keith bounces a few times, the mattress soft and almost cloud like, if Keith ever had to describe it to someone. He watches Zarkon strip with a blush, both their pheromones intensifying. Keith decides to wait for him to stalk over to the bed, offering himself seductively; a well learned skill for once used genuinely. 

The larger man crawls onto the bed towards his omega. Zarkon’s hands roam and pull away Keith’s clothes like they are revealing an ancient artifact, merely a last means to protect the treasure one last time. Not that Keith needs protections from the acts he knows they are going to be luxuriating in today. He vaguely remembers a celebration party he planned in the venue, but this is decidedly more important at the moment. 

“Do you have any lube? Don’t want to keep our guests waiting too long” Keith jests, but it makes Zarkon freeze. “You’re right, we shouldn’t be so impertinent to our guests.” He reasons. Zarkon gets off, pulling a confused Keith up and off the bed. He rushes to get his clothes on, restrapping the armor clasps and handing Keith his strewn clothes. 

“We should leave.” Zarkon offers his hand after Keith gets his clothes back on in a daze. They leave his office, making the fifteen minute walk to the venue.

Their guests are waiting for them. Alfor greets them with a look, but Zarkon addresses the crowd of diplomats composed and poised, “Excuse our lateness, I had to send an important transmission in my office before our attendance could be stationary.” He says with a bit of added irritation. Keith can tell it’s show, but most of the diplomats don’t see or care. They continue enjoying the food and whine, returning to their conversations. Alfor coughs to get their attention.

“I can only assume your courtship is going well?” Alfor asks. Keith nods, “There has only been a few external issues, but otherwise, everything is going smoother than we thought it would.” Keith replies. Zarkon grunts in agreement, looking away. Keith holds his hand harder, feeling and seeing how tense he is. 

“Our courting has just begun, Alfor. Though we certainly wish to continue for the foreseeable future.” Zarkon accentuates his point by pulling Keith close to his side. Keith goes smoothly, pulling him down for a quick kiss to the cheek. Zarkon flushes a soft pink tint. Alfor looks on with a small smile.

“I’m just glad you finally found someone to your liking, Zarkon. You needed it.” He says, “I’ll leave you to it, and enjoy this splendid party you set up for us.” He waves himself off from the couple, going to mingle with some disgruntled guests. He gets them laughing soon enough, sweetening their dour moods.

The couple opts to sit down on one of the venue’s many lounges. The party isn’t what a usual Galran reception would look like, obviously, but Keith figured it would be wise to please people this one time. He looks up at his lover with silent affection, who is distracted by an allied queen. She is tall, slender and sports a bald head. Keith remembers she is from a warrior race as well, though the tradition worms it way all the way to greetings and even bathing. Zarkon has to twist her arm in a mini fight, where she smirks. Her laugh is deep and husky with a light note. The green eyes sparkle in the natural light, and she sticks her hand out to Keith as well. He doesn’t match her surprising strength, not having the official regime of a soldier. She is still jovial about it, still pleased.

“I’m surprised you finally found a mate worthy of your prowess. Even if I don’t believe anyone could match it.” She croaks out. He remembers her people usually use subvocal communication, like the galra when instinct takes over, or when they simply feel like it. Nuances simply don’t carry over, though, it’s often less efficient than verbal communication.

“He is in your terms, more than worthy. Thank you for attending, Uzleft has been a vital ally to Diazzabal for centuries now. I know personally you do not care for Altean style parties, so it is a special honour to have you attend.” Zarkon thanks her. She shakes her head, releasing a silent vibrational grumble. 

“You are too kind. It is of no disturbance to meet your mate in person. Many would travel galaxies to do so. You have made many mistakes, but this is not one.” She nods in Keith’s direction, turning away so more allies could congratulate them on their union. Keith tends to talk more with Altea’s allies, them being too scared or intimidated to talk to Zarkon. It bothers Keith, but he also has to remind himself of the very war that estranged him from his mother. The Galra started that, and Keith knows he looks almost like a shifted Altean. His eyes and markings tell differently, but it is close enough for these people. Zarkon wasn’t even the one who started the feud, but he sure ended it. It’s the reason he and Alfor are such good friends.

Zarkon started to tire from socializing, and so did Keith. Wishing to extract themselves, they excused themselves from the party promptly after a tired look towards the other. Keith looks out the many windows at the sound of chatter. The view is of the sunset; the people below buying and exchanging goods and sweets. He wishes he could have been part of the festival today, like always. He never stayed long, mostly looking at the selection of jewelry from outerworld traders and antique knives that caught his fancy. The earrings and necklaces were mostly for work, and he usually was working with a lonely client during the festival. They would walk around together and shop. It was one of the nicer days to get hired, but he also loathed it. So many clients would ask to actually date him, one even followed him home. Keith recalls breaking his arm. 

“What has you trapped in thought, Keith?” Zarkon stops, asking with slight concern. Keith shrugs a bit, not actually too bothered, “It was just the first time in a while since I went to the festival. I just almost never went without a client, is all.” He shrugs again. Zarkon looks at him a bit longer before answering. 

“We can go, if you wish.” He suggests. Keith tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. He bites his lip, glancing out the window. “Only for a bit. I don’t want to stay long.” He finally decides. Zarkon smiles, grasping Keith’s loose hand. They take a side exit out of the palace as to not back track from where they are. They also don’t want to draw unnecessary attention by opening the front doors of the palace.

They snort together when they not so sneakily enter the market. People stare, point and whisper. 

Keith is a bit bashful under the attention. He simply isn’t used to it. Sure his heart was pounding during the speech and int

erviews, but there is something worse being  _ in _ the crowd, not over it. He just follows Zarkon’s lead and acts dignified, even if he can tell Zarkon is looking around for any suspicious behavior. Keith can smell the Alpha pheromones working overdrive to calm his Omega. Keith lightens, feeling better, though just as guarded. 

They are roughly fifteen minutes in when Keith feels a tug on his pants, looking down in surprise. It’s a child Keith finds he recognizes from the orphanage. Keith smiles wide in happiness, then frowns in worry. How did they wander off from their caretakers? 

He picks him up, holding him in his arms. 

“Keef so pretty!” The kid mumbles past his fingers, sucking them in his mouth. “Thank you, dear. You look quite dressed up today as well. Where is Eydis? Did you stray far?” Keith asks sweetly, pulling the child’s fingers out of their mouth. The kid’s claws have just started to grow in longer, and their second teething period just started too. Such an adorable handful. 

“Dat way, Keef.” They point forwards towards the crowd. Zarkon has only now noticed Keith and the child at this point, too absorbed in the selection of antique weaponry they came across. 

“Do you know them?” He asks curiously. Keith explains the situation. Zarkon’s brows crease in worry, suggesting they go look for Eydis. Keith agrees, pulling up her contact in his comms. He messages her their location, she replies right away that she will be there. 

It doesn’t even take a minute before she and three older children in tow to show up. The child has already managed to slobber and teeth on both Zarkon’s fingers and Keith’s shoulder pads. 

“Thank the stars for your help Keith. He always runs off on us.” She grumbles, back and shoulders straight as a ruler. They child whines in protest when Keith passes them over. 

“They’re always running away at this age. Remember when Ledaz found himself in the vents?” Keith laughs, to the chagrin of one of the teens, and the dampened smile of Eydis. 

“I nearly fainted. I remember when you were young and troublesome as well. Your mother put you under my tutelage, but I could barely keep track of you.” She smiles a bit wider in reminisce, “I never thought you would ever be caught, being so elusive, but it seems it takes two of similar nature to find the other in hiding, don’t you think?” She asks, smile dropping into a lighthearted smirk. Keith feels a blush crawl onto his face. He peeks up at Zarkon, who is currently unreadable, still analyzing the situation. 

“Zarkon, this is Eydis. She is the head caretaker at the orphanage I volunteer at. She took care of me for around a month when I was younger, when Krolia was still getting full custody.” He explains, and he looks even more confused, though he hides it under a mask of understanding.

“It is an honor to meet such a respectable member of my empire, Eydis.” Zarkon says cordially. Keith shoots a tender look at his mate, and he sends one back. 

They say goodbye to each other, Keith garnering a slobbering lick from the runaway before he also bites Zarkon, running from the scene behind Eydis. They laugh at the cub, waving goodbye to the older children with a promise to keep on schedule next time. 

They walk in silence, basking in the setting sun. Keith is hooked in the larger man’s arm as they stride. Both are considerably tired from all the socializing, the loudness of the festival, the cheers of crowds. All they wish to do is be together, finish what they started earlier. There is no excuse to stop, to think about their work or duties to their people. All they know in that moment is their heartbeat and the scent of their partner wafting over the other.

Keith feels as if he is drunk. A meditative warmth spreads over his body, tingling his all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. His heart feels hot and light. He feels safe, and most of all fulfilled. He feels accomplished. Zarkon he can smell feels similarly satisfied in life at that moment. 

The office doors are opened and closed for the last time that day. Zarkon locks the doors behind them, Keith going to Zarkon’s rooms,  _ their  _ rooms, and opening the unassuming door. He waits in the doorway, undressing. He realizes it is taking Zarkon a long time to lock the door, looking back towards him. Zarkon is staring wide eyed, mouth parted slightly. A blush pinks his face. Keith bites his lip, leaning on the doorway invitingly. 

“Zarkon, come here.” He beckons. Zarkon physically restrains himself while he walks towards Keith. He looks like a predator about to lunge onto its prey. The amount of control he is exerting turns Keith on, making him subvocally call out for his Alpha. Zarkon responds with a growl, grabbing Keith’s slim hips. His chest is now bare and is groped by Zarkon’s gloved hands. Keith is swooped up over a large shoulder with a welp. He lets himself go limp to please his Alpha’s instincts, pumping out purr after purr. Slick almost pours out of his slit in interest. Zarkon can smell it, moving his hands to rub against his mate’s pants. There’s a wet spot growing. 

They finally make it to the bed, doors locked. Keith is set on the blankets and pillows, Zarkon stripping him fully now. Keith waits on the sparse amount of pillows, creating a nest as he watches Zarkon strip of his armor. He strokes his omega cock and slit, both wet with cum. He drinks up his mate’s toned muscles revealed under his armor. The skin tight suit doesn’t do his sheer mass and muscle any justice. Attractive scars tattoo the naturally scaled skin, they ripple like silk as he moves towards the bed, towards Keith. Both of them are painfully aroused, oh so desperate for the other. It’s been two months and they have been restrained. Torn away from their baser instincts for formalities.

When a large knee rests beside Keith’s thigh on the large expanse of bed the bed dips under Keith, making him turn on his side slightly. Hands lay reverently on his hip and face, stroking his body. Keith returns the sentiment as he explores the shifting pecs over him. Eventually Zarkon’s face lowers to Keith’s neck glands for a lick. Sweat is starting to bead at the crook of their necks and inner thighs. The smell is tantalizing in such a way that drives them to near madness. Keith whines at the tongue ravaging his neck. It moves down to his nipples, to his soft stomach and finally his cock. It’s smaller than average, and he can’t impregnate others like Alphas or male Betas can. It still secretes fluid, but it’s mostly a vestigial organ.

Zarkon takes it in his mouth, making Keith moan and squirm in his grasp. Pheromonic cum squirts out of his slit and into Zarkon’s mouth, making him more excited to take Keith in. His tongue tips down the cock to the dripping slit, a finger joining the fray. Legs lift and keep Zarkon down between them. Hands tangle themselves and grip at his face plates in ecstasy. Teeth and tongue and fingers bring Keith to an orgasm, his walls pulsing around them. His soft velvety folds flutter coated in thick white slick. The bed sheets are surly ruined with the wet pool Keith can feel forming under his cheeks. 

Zarkon pulls himself up back to Keith’s face, slotting their lips and hips together. They both groan at the taste of slick. Keith holds Zarkon’s hips down to grind against his sheath. Just the tip is poking out and more is coaxed past the sheath’s exit. It slips in easily as it hardens, extending itself inside. The wet clenching walls keep it from slipping out or exiting without Keith’s want for it to. The muscles inside allow for him to keep mates in if he wishes, or break off the member even after knotting. It keeps an unwanted Alpha from mating again. There are also multiple canals to store cum inside from multiple partners. Omegas would often take multiple partners in a clan, since there was often too little land and too little Omegas to go around. Once they had enough trusted partners, they would leave their parent’s care. 

Being overcome with sheer pleasure Zarkon starts thrusting into Keith’s main channel. Keith moans loud, opening his other channels for entry. He wants Zarkon’s cum to be in all his stores, to feel it fill him up. Alphas evolved to cum a lot to evade blocks and out compete other Alphas during breeding. It doesn’t work all the time, but the full feeling makes Keith cum when Alphas do it. He’s been told it's akin to being freshly pregnant. 

Zarkon pauses when he feels the entrances open up for him. He shifts their positions so he can stretch the new entrances around his cock. He switches between the three before just fucking the main one. His pace is fast and a bit rough, but Keith isn’t worried. Zarkon clearly has control over his actions still, even if it is waning with instinct taking over. 

Keith’s whole body bounces and shakes from the force of the thrusts. Slaps and wet squelches and moans reverberate around the expansive room. Keith feels his slick pour over Zarkon’s balls, which are slapping against Keith’s equally soaked cheeks. 

When Zarkon cums, he stills. His arms wrap around and pull Keith flush to his chest, face pressed into the bed. His knot keeps his cum from gushing out as the stream fills his Omega. Keith’s belly is as full as it’s ever been, distending greatly. He’s whining and grabbing at his mate to keep him there, even if he knows he won’t, can’t, leave. 

They come to after their pheromones dissipate, his knot deflating. Keith is lain onto the bed, a puddle of slick coating his ass and back. Zarkon grabs his comms to call for a servant, an embarrassed expression marring his face. Keith thinks it’s adorable, getting himself up towards the bathroom. He draws a bath for them. 

The doors close and footsteps stop beside Keith. Zarkon lays some towels beside the giant tub. Steam fills the brightly lit room, reflecting the light softly. Keith is lifted up and into the warm water, and is promptly joined by his mate. He sits on his lap, getting comfortable. They wash each other with soft sponges, Keith taking the time to really explore his lover’s body this time. He kisses his strong jaw as Keith’s back is rubbed clean. He rests his head on Zarkon’s chest with a purr. 

“We should get back to bed, love.” Zarkon suggests with a purr of his own. The water is heated, though their skin is pruned. Keith nods, allowing himself to be scooped up. 

The bed is freshly made when they exit the bathroom. Their towels go into a laundry chute; their clothes are either missing or hung up, and the room seems slightly tidier than before. 

Their bed feels warm when they lay themselves under the covers. They both have a few issues falling asleep, not used to sharing a bed. 

Zarkon sleeps on his back, Keith sleeps on his chest. The drapes around the bed are still pulled up, Zarkon’s long arm reaching over and tugging the ornate rope to draw them. Heavy rich fabric cascades around them, drenching out the light of Diabazzal’s moon.

“Sleep well, Keith. We will have breakfast in our rooms, your favorite.” Zarkon whispers, not wanting to break the quiet. Yawning, Keith nibbles his neck while his mouth opens. It's an affection that makes Zarkon groan low, grabbing Keith’s neck with one hand. 

“We need to sleep, dearest.” He reasons, pulling Keith’s mouth away from his neck. Keith settles, still full and sated of his mate’s sperm, stored safely in his repositories.

“Good night, see you tomorrow.” Keith nuzzles into the crook of his neck.

The night is quiet when they sleep, moonlight casting gentle shadows over their room from the balcony. Snores and purrs waft from the bed as the new couple finally falls asleep in the afterglow of their love.


End file.
